


From Behind

by SeverinadeStrango



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Akechi Mitsuhide is His Own Warning, Anal Sex, Bondage, Guilt, Internal Conflict, Lost Identity, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Mitsuhide No Longer Has His Name, Punishment, Slightly dubious consent, Surreal, Voluntary Captivity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 02:29:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16904382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverinadeStrango/pseuds/SeverinadeStrango
Summary: You never do see it coming until it hits you.





	From Behind

The first time that Matsunaga took him, he was not allowed to look. He had to remain where he was, chained and silent of his own accord, the only sight before him being the wall that his face was pressed up against. He preferred it this way, slow and gentle – not because he did not _like_ the pain, oh no, that part of him had not yet died away, but because he had not done anything to deserve the indulgence. 

It was by these means that Matsunaga took over every inch of him until he had no autonomy left, until he had not a cell of his own to command. There was a heavy hand resting on his shoulder, holding him steady even as he tried to push back, because despite how agonizingly slow he was going he needed oh he _needed_ and that was what had given Hisahide such full and complete control.

“You know what you’ve done, don’t you?” The question was asked gently – it always was, as casually as if they were two old friends sharing a meal together. He couldn’t even respond in the affirmative. Of course he knew what he’d _done,_ he’d failed Nobunaga-kou, he’d made a monster out of the wreck of the human being that he _must_ have been at some point. “You know how you must atone.” 

He never used his old name, it was dead and gone to the world and that was all right. It was all right everything _everything everything is all right_ time stands still within these walls. It was safe, safe like a heavy blanket in a cold winter. He did not mind being dead and gone if this was the only thing that existed, if he could serve out his timeless punishment uninterrupted. It was the least he could do to atone for his miserable failure.

A finger traced down his spine. He felt, for a second, as if he was made of paper.

This was Matsunaga’s infallible way of making him focus on what he was here to do – pay his dues, atone for his sins. He could not think of anything else like this. Only this and here and now and why. He could not think about wanting to die because here he was, in a little enclosed piece of purgatory, already dead, and thus there was no point in it, he could not wish for a life to go back to because there was nothing left (and every touch of Matsunaga’s hands reminded him of it – he was the one that he had _begged_ to kill him, after all). 

This was his punishment, to lose all that he once was and all that he had been known for with _this_ face _that_ body _those_ hands, and he clung to it like a desperate, dying man would to his last breath before the waves dragged him under. Hisahide’s hands _heavy on his hips oh god oh god taking me apart,_ he had to let go, to do the impossible and embrace his fall, _now now, it is useless to hang on._

Even now he could not bring himself to say his old name. The silent shape of the syllables felt like blades against his lips as he finally _finally_ came apart under Matsunaga’s hands, his one use fulfilled and he felt satisfaction at last, this was proof he had remained present enough. It was proof, all proof, the sticky mess that dripped out of him when he felt the weight against his back lift, the trembling of his bony knees. He whispered Matsunaga’s name and prayed for a mercy-blow that would never come, that would be far too swift for a man such as he. Instead – and perhaps this was why he’d had him face the wall – two firm arms had wrapped around his waist, drawing him back until he was tucked up against the torso of his savior and his renewer and his tormentor. 

“What were you wanting?” Matsunaga asked, and he still couldn’t see his face, pressed into his chest as he was even as a heavy hand smoothed down long, silver hair. His thighs ached, as did his chest, and he held the pain close to him with all the secret guilt of a child clinging tight to a doll.

“I no longer know.”

The words had sounded as empty as they felt. He had long since given up trying to return to what once was. This was his punishment, this was justice served, and he would accept it, he would accept the consequences of his failure.

Matsunaga smiled, that soft glint of teeth going by unseen in the darkness surrounding the two of them.

“Well done.”


End file.
